Twenty-three

“It’s Sunday evening,” Uncle Joe called. “Who in the world would be calling on a body on Easter Sunday? Why, we’ve already talked to just about everyone in the parish this morning at church.”

“Hush, Joe,” Tante Flo said. “That’s not neighborly at all. Cleo, would you see who is at the door?”

“Oui.”

Cleo rose from her spot on the settee, leaving her book open so she could easily rejoin the adventure unfolding on the pages. To her surprise, she opened the door to find Theo Breaux standing there. Dressed in his Sunday best, he’d taken the unprecedented step of slicking his unruly hair back in a style vaguely resembling the latest fashion.

“Bonsoir, Cleo. Is your uncle home?” He thrust a motley collection of spring flowers in her direction.

Cleo suppressed a giggle. “Why? Are those for him?”

He seemed a bit disconcerted. “No, they’re for you.”

“Who’s there, Cleo?” Uncle Joe called.

“It’s your carpenter,” she said as she stepped back and ushered him inside.

He and Joe shook hands, then Theo cleared his throat. “I’d like to speak to you in private, sir.”

Uncle Joe looked up at Theo over the rim of his spectacles. “Would you now?”

The pair went into the kitchen. When Cleo tiptoed toward the closed door, her aunt stepped out to touch her shoulder. She jumped and whirled around.

“Go and read your book, child, while I put these in some water,” Tante Flo said as she took the flowers from Cleo. “For once in our life, let the menfolk be.”

Somehow she managed to settle back onto the settee and pick up the book. Reading, however, was out of the question, as her mind kept reeling back in time to the morning’s sunrise service.

Had she really stolen a kiss during church? Why, she’d behaved no better than. . .than what? She blushed to think of the comparison she could make.

Abruptly the kitchen door flew open, and Theo emerged, followed by Uncle Joe. Without a word, the carpenter took Cleo by the hand.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said as he led her toward the door.

She cast a glance over her shoulder in time to see Uncle Joe disappear down the hall. Obviously, whatever transpired in the kitchen, her uncle was neither excited nor upset about it.

Following Theo outside, she paused to suppress a chill. When had the air grown so cold?

Before she could turn and fetch her shawl, Theo removed his suit coat and draped it over her shoulders. The heavy wool felt heavenly against her shoulders as she snuggled into its warmth.

They walked along in silence for a time, and Cleo marveled at how comfortable it felt. When Theo cleared his throat, she almost jumped.

“You’re probably wondering why I showed up here tonight.” He gestured toward his clothes. “Dressed like this.”

Cleo met his gaze, then allowed her attention to slide lower to his neck. A vein pulsed there, and she wondered if his heart raced as fast.

“Actually, I did wonder.” She paused to add the beginning of a smile. “A bit, anyway.”

He guided her toward the bayou, falling in step beside her. “I’m not sure where to start, so I guess I’ll just tell you right out.” He shook his head. “No, I don’t think I’ll do it that way. I believe I’ll just show you.”

Grasping Cleo’s hand, he picked up his pace. She nearly had to run to keep up with his long strides. By the time they reached the schoolhouse, she was out of breath.

Theo slowed his pace when he saw her distress. “I’m really sorry, Cleo,” he said. “Why didn’t you say something?”

She shrugged. “We’re here now,” she managed. “What was it you wanted to show me?”

He climbed up on the porch, then gestured for her to follow. At the door, he stepped back and pointed to the handle. “You do the honors, Cleo. It’s your schoolhouse.”

Cleo gave him a long look before opening the door and stepping inside. The first thing that she noticed was the smell. Everything smelled fresh and clean and—and new.

Theo rushed to the windows and began raising the shades. As light flooded the room, Cleo shook her head. It was finished.

Her gaze flitted from desk to bench to chalkboard and back to Theo. Somewhere along the way, tears had begun to fall. Theo raced to her side.

“Quoi y’a, cher? What is it? Have I done something wrong?”

“Wrong? No. Pas du tout. It’s. . .it’s perfect.”

She glanced around the room once more. True to his word, Theo Breaux had turned the little ramshackle building into something resembling a proper schoolhouse.

Sturdy wooden benches sat in three straight rows on the patched cypress floor, providing room enough for nearly a dozen children to sit. Three windows on either side of the room allowed a breeze to float across the little room. Cleo closed her eyes, imagining the bright faces of children eager to learn, then opened them once more to see Theo staring.

To her surprise, his eyes seemed to be watering. Or was that a tear?

“Theo, are you all right?”

Nodding, he grasped her hand and brought her fingers to touch his lips. “It’s just that I’m going to miss you.”

She kissed his fingers, then fell into his arms. “Are you asking me to stay?”

Pressing her ear to his chest, she could hear his heart racing. “I can’t ask that of you,” he said.

The words rumbled through her heart and lodged in her throat. “Can’t or won’t?”

He released his grip to hold her at arm’s length. “I won’t be the reason your dreams don’t come true, Cleo.”

She stared into the eyes of the orneriest man in Latagnier and gave passing thought to what life might be like without him. “Just as I refuse to be the reason yours don’t come true. Tell me I’m worth giving up your traveling ways.”

She knew from his expression that she’d hit a nerve. “I’m not, am I?”

His silence spoke volumes. Shrugging out of Theo’s jacket, she threw it in his direction and fled for the safety of home.

“Leave me be,” she shouted when he tried to follow her. “And don’t come around me until you’re ready to say I’m more important to you than some trip north. I don’t want to love you only to end up with a broken heart, so if you’re going, go now.”

When he froze in his tracks, her heart broke for real.

❧

The first week of school flew by, as did the second and third. Sometime during the fourth week, Cleo got wind through one of the church ladies that Theo Breaux had left Latagnier on the evening train two weeks back. He was heading north, she’d been told. Canada was what his brother claimed.

Cleo listened to the reports, then went back to her quilting. Her tears would wait for bedtime. They always did.

Berta Broussard met her gaze and changed the subject. Before long, the ladies had moved on to jawing about the rising cost of thread in town and the prospect of a fall festival to raise money for new candlesticks in the sanctuary.

When Uncle Joe interrupted the party, Cleo was almost relieved. “I’m sorry, ladies, but Cleo is needed at the schoolhouse.”

“Really?” She gathered her scissors and thimble and dropped them into her bag. “Is there something wrong?”

After all, today was Saturday. No one should be at the school.

“I think you’d better see for yourself,” he said. “But don’t tarry.”

Cleo rushed toward the school, her gaze scanning the treetops for some sign of smoke or other calamity. When she reached the clearing, relief flooded her. Whatever was wrong, at least the place hadn’t gone up in flames.

In fact, the building looked the same today as she had left it after school yesterday. Easing her way up the steps, she tiptoed across the porch to push open the door.

She stepped inside and glanced around. Everything looked to be in order.

Venturing further, she noted the books still lined up on the desks and the pencils and paper neatly stacked on the shelf beneath a chart showing the consonants and vowels. A sound behind her made her jump.

She turned in time to see a tall shadow cross the floor.

“Theo?” A dozen different emotions assailed her, each giving way to the next until she’d lost any idea of how she felt about seeing the carpenter again.

He nodded. “Am I still welcome here?”

For a moment she had no answer. Slowly, she nodded. “Of course,” she said. “This schoolhouse belongs to everyone who lives in Latagnier.”

As soon as she said the words, she longed to reel them back in. Theo Breaux no longer lived in Latagnier. Or did he?

He crossed the distance between them in long strides and came close enough to take her in his arms. Close enough, yet he just stood there, arms at his sides, staring.

“Why did you come back?”

More words she wished she hadn’t said.

“Something you said. I had to see if you meant it.”

“Something I said?” She’d said plenty that day, most of it not so nice.

He nodded. “You said you didn’t want to be responsible for my dreams not coming true. Did you mean that?”

It was her turn to nod. Their gazes collided. The impact rocked her to her toes.

“Yes, I meant it,” she whispered.

Theo took her hand in his. “Well, I had to get halfway to Canada before I figured out you were the reason my dreams weren’t coming true.”

“I don’t understand.”

Theo went down on one knee and kissed her hand. “Without you, I don’t have any dreams. I can’t imagine life without you in it, and I can’t see spending our days anywhere but right here in Latagnier. What I’m saying is I had to learn the hard way that here is where I belong, and you belong right by my side. Je t’aime—Oh, how I love you, Cleo Trahan. Will you marry me?”

Words gathered in her mind but stuck in her throat. Somehow she managed to say just one: “Yes.”

His expression turned serious. “You’d better think before you answer, Cleo. Setting your sites on being the future Mrs. Breaux will mean you have to give up going to that fancy teachers’ college.”

She smiled. “I don’t give a fig about that school.” Sobering a moment, she regarded Theo. “But I wonder what Uncle Joe will think.”

“Uncle Joe’s fine with the idea.” She looked up to see her uncle standing in the door. Tante Flo was beside him. “Has she said yes yet?”

“He knew?” Cleo looked down at the carpenter in astonishment. “How did you get my uncle involved in this?”

“Remember the day I came to the house with flowers?”

She nodded.

“And the conversation in the kitchen? The one you tried to eavesdrop on?”

Again she nodded.

“I told him then that I aimed to marry up with you as soon as I came to my senses.”

“Took you long enough, boy,” Uncle Joe said.

“Well, Cleo, are you willing to take on an old fool like me?”

She pretended to consider the question. “How many babies do you want, Theo?”

He seemed surprised. “As many as you and the Lord will allow.”

“I like this man,” Tante Flo said.

“I do, too,” Cleo said.

And with that, Theo rose to kiss his future bride.